Greetings, dear readers.

While walking the road on a gorgeous near-fall afternoon, I found whimsy walking with me.

This delightful confection is blue mistflower (Conoclinium coelestinum), not surprisingly also called blue boneset. I wrote about the white version a few posts back. These are a close replica in lilac, with longer eyelashes and a softer look. 

Like many of the wildflowers that I’ve finally taken notice of, I’ve seen these before, but had never stopped to appreciate them – their delicate color, their intricacy, the fact that they are full compound flowers, as are all of the asters, from these tiny puffs to full-on sunflowers. 

It feels like a little magic, revealed next to the road, where anyone might see.

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Readers, I hope there’s a little magic in your world today. Be well and safe – I am grateful you are here.

Greetings, dear readers.

We’re noticing the change of seasons here. A moment to enjoy the first cool mornings. A little pause. A moment to breathe. The air feels lighter in fall.

Sometimes it is enough to appreciate the smallest things. A happy cat. The steam off a fresh cup of coffee. The sight of grasses, covered with dew, and waving to the sun.

Finding a moment of peace in small things is a gift to the rest of the day.

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Readers, I hope your day has those sweet small things. Be well and safe – I am grateful you are here.

Greetings, dear readers.

Tardy again, I  confess. My wanderings in the work world and the nearby world pull me away at times. Sometimes, though, I come back with bounty:

– Beets from the market I set foot into for the first time in months – massive and golden, they served up a royal roasted side dish for several meals. The crown of one sits in a low container of water on my windowsill, sending up sprouted greens as if it had never left soil. I will be interested to see how this experiment pans out.

– An email message from a student so humble and kind, I had to manage my own tears before managing a response. It was the kind of moment that wipes out every shred of exasperation that teaching can sometimes engender.

 – And walking back from the trash bin, I nearly tripped over these sweet bunches of white flowers. Their form and the long thin leaves (not quite visible in the image) tell me that they are probably Alliums of some kind. Potentially, garlic chives, though I could detect no odor from the leaves and it is late for the bloom. It doesn’t really matter – whatever a botanist would call them, I will call them a lovely addition to an evening stroll.

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Reader, I hope your days contain some small sweet surprises. Be well and safe – I am grateful you are here.

Greetings, dear readers.

It’s Labor Day in the US. A day meant to commemorate the contributions of the workforce to society, it has special meaning today. This year has been an extraordinary one for a number of reasons. I am more grateful than ever for the efforts of so many unsung contributors to my way of life:

The postal carriers, delivery service drivers, and all the people who support them in their work. Because of them, I have received goods I needed and things I wanted to help the time or my work go easier.

The grocery store shoppers who put together my weekly orders and brought them to my home or to my car, without fail, with only one error in all these months. Because of them, I had good meals and my pets had a treat now and then, and I was able to do my own work without worrying about the shopping.

The warehouse workers who pulled countless orders for me when I was getting every scrap of pet food and flour and tech supplies (and a few books) by mail order because it was impossible to find otherwise. Because of them, I could make bread and feed the dogs and teach a class and do all with some measure of ease.

The tech warriors who keep Zoom and online networks and every form of communication going. They’ve been my lifeline. Because of them, I can teach my classes and see my family and learn new things and connect to a special creative community that has been my haven.

All of these and many more have been the keepers ofour lifelines. They have carried us all – I am so grateful.

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Readers, I thank you for the work you do, there are so many ways you contribute to those around you. I hope you’re keeping well and safe; I am grateful you are here.

Greetings, dear readers.

The unexpected bonus of a work-from-home day meant that I was able to indulge in a late afternoon meander up the hill. A breeze pushed away midday rainstorms and there were breaks in the clouds lighting up the fall crop of wildflowers.

Goldenrod and boneset bloom together, their fluffy blossoms in yellow and white attracting a few tiny insects.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bearsfoot and ironweed put on a more flamboyant show, just a few steps away.

Bearsfoot and boneset – it sounds like an incantation, doesn’t it? If it can call up a break from the screens and squawks of the day – I will call that a win.

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Readers, I hope your days have some breaks with fresh air and a few wildflowers. Be well and safe – I am grateful you are here.

Greetings, dear readers.

Summer still holds sway here, with heated days and a few thunderstorms to remind us that a summer rain can come with some oomph behind it. And yet …

There is no doubt that fall is on the way. Even the bindweed’s heart-shaped new leaves are a less insistent shade of green. Out by the highway, birches and aspen already shake handfuls of gold coins over the motorists who fly by.

The hard growing of summer is done and soon the trees will say thanks for a summer of sun by painting the hillsides in borrowed red and gold.

I am always grateful to witness their autumn bow.

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Readers, I hope that summer is winding down easy for you. For anyone in the path of the gulf storms – take good care; my thought are with you. Be well and safe, everyone. I am grateful you are here.

Greetings, dear readers.

I am going to make assumptions about you (bad habit, I know). I’m going to assume that because you are here you were looking for something to view or to read that would be a shift from the louder bits of what you see in internet space. And I thought, like me, you might want to see more things like that. There are a number of wonderful sites I’d like to share, and today I’m going to share two – treats of cyberspace and sweet to read!

The first is the Quiet Disruptors blog published by Sue Heatherington out of Wales in the UK. The postings are often brief, and invite the reader with words and images to a peaceful, thoughtful place in the day. It is a lovely respite at any time of the day. A recent post also contained a quote from TS. Eliot’s Little Gidding, which is such a favorite of mine I even inflict bits on it on my students.

The second is the Born Free Newsletter by Gail Boenning who invites the reader with images and warm essays and wonderfully spare poetry that gets into your thoughts and stays a while. Sometimes the images are of a marvelously expressive and free-spirited black Labrador named Henrietta. On the “About” page Gail says: You never know who might find a sparkle in the depths. Indeed! Born Free sparkles.

Both of these writers provide a welcoming space in the wilds of www-land. I am fortunate enough to have internet-met both of these accomplished writers and I hope you’ll take a look!

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Readers, if you know of writer’s whose work you’d like to share – give a shout out in the comments! The more the merrier. I wish you well and safe and I am grateful you are here.

Greetings, dear readers.

August is winding down and we’ve had a couple cooler days here, just enough to have the goldenrod on the hill waving a come hither fistful of pretty yellow panicles.

Since Ollie stole the limelight the other day, Chiquita has been angling for her shot – and for my pillow. This, in spite of the fact that her waggle-dance was the featured entertainment not long ago. She is nothing if not a show-stealer.

She was in a wild mood this afternoon, chasing a ball back and forth in the living room as if it might escape, bouncing off of my knee occasionally to remind me that I was still on the pitcher’s mound. When she tired of that, she waited until I went to switch out a load of laundry to handily co-opt the warm spot on the couch.

 

Note the “Who, me?” expression.

 

 

 

Still, she is a teacher in her way. Joyous creature that she is, she does nothing 

halfway, from ball aerobics to cat food thievery. 

And she is a Zen master of sleep. 

I could do worse than learn to seize the moment with such abandon.

 

 

 

 

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Readers, I hope there are a few carefree wags in your world. Be well and safe, I am grateful you are here.

Greetings, dear readers.

I was thinking about funny stuff because … well, because I live with this:

This is Olive, the Plott hound. What she’s plotting is to snitch my pillow and hog my space on the couch if I happen to get up for a minute.

There is a certain cuteness factor here, and it hides a goofy streak and the intermittent inability to hear anything like my voice if there is a deer or a neighborhood cat within sniffing range. Engaging her nose disengages her brain and puts her legs into DefCon 12 chase mode. I have had some interesting go rounds in the neighboring woods trying to get her back when she got loose.

Still – when she settles and goes into her Ms. Placid 2020 mode, it is pretty cute. Now I just need to figure out how to get my spot back…

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Readers, I hope a little (or big) cute and funny invades your world on occasion.  Be safe and well, I am grateful you are here.

Greetings, dear readers.

We humans have borders on our seasons, but nature is having none of that. By the calendar, summer runs another month, right past Labor Day and into the latter half of September. By the turn of leaf and earth, the changes are gliding up on us now. 

The berries that were just barely ripe at the end of June are gone by, the July wildflowers are all gone to seed, and the fall flowers are coming on. There is goldenrod in the far corner of the slope. The trees have started to loose their hold on their leaves – the greens are muted now and the occasional gold or red has appeared. Sunflowers now feed the birds who planted them.

Hummingbirds conduct aerial exercises over my feeder each day, jockeying for a sip of nectar, and a moment as lords and ladies of the perch. They are feeding heavily, making ready for the journey south.

As for me, the first cooler nights are a welcome shift from the heat. The mornings are muted, dark a little longer, quieter of bird song. This turning is slow and easy and promises the bounty of fall.

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Readers, wishing you autumn peace. Be well and safe – I am grateful you are here.